


Whiplash

by sweariwouldnt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Angst, Different Eras, Drinking, Exes to Lovers, Fluff, Future Fic, Happy Ending, M/M, Sexual References, Smoking, Swearing, a wee bit of kid fic, break-up, chance encounters, come on it's me of course it's a happy ending, harry and louis are from 17 and 19 to 33 and 35, unless i failed maths (i probably did), vague reference to coming out/being closeted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-04 23:54:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11001636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweariwouldnt/pseuds/sweariwouldnt
Summary: Meeting first over ham and cheese toasties and Ribena on a hot day in Blackpool, Harry and Louis keep meeting each other. Five scenes in a lifetime.





	Whiplash

**Author's Note:**

> SO. Something a bit new shall we say, testing the waters? An AU with a few tags I just said the other day I personally don't like. So naturally, I wrote one with those. 
> 
> As often happens, this just kind of came to me, whilst listening to Arctic Monkeys' Cornerstone. 
> 
> Louis/OMC: It's brief, non-explicit, non-meaningful emotions wise but it is meaningful for the story. Happy to tell you more if you, like me, gets very squicked about that.

**Act I. Blackpool, 2011.**

Louis feels pretty certain that he has finally reached the unthinkable stage where he’s finally had enough of ham and cheese toasties and Ribena. He fucking loves both the toasties and Ribena, but he’s been having so much of both lately that his piss might actually start smelling like blackcurrant. 

“Eh, hi?” 

Louis is startled from his thoughts by a chirpy voice. He turns his head from looking at blackboards hanging from the ceiling in a loud café, and is met with a cautiously smiling boy, not too far from his own age. The boy has a dark mop of short curls for a hair and he vaguely reminds Louis of his distant aunt Muriel. 

“Hi?” Louis sounds a bit puzzled. Well, he is puzzled, both about his choice of a free lunch and this random encounter. 

The boy seems to relax a little with Louis answering him, but is also fidgeting a little as he seems to be unsure of what to say next. “I, uhm….” 

“Am I on your way?” 

“No!” The boy flusters a bit. “Well, I guess technically you are, on my way to the cashier, but you’re not like, on-my-way on my way. Like, I don’t need you to move or anything, you’re not… On my way.” The boy blushes and stares at his shoes. “You were here first so it’s like, a normal queueing situation, I guess.” 

Louis chuckles a bit and sees the boy bite his lip. “Ok.” 

He somehow can’t stop looking at the boy, whose eyes are nailed to his own feet. Louis can see the canvas on top of the light blue Vans move; the boy is probably wiggling his toes. He is wearing a similar work uniform as Louis himself is, and has a crumbled lunch voucher in his hand. 

“When did you start?” Louis finally says conversationally, trying to sound friendly and welcoming. 

The boy lifts his head up and smiles a little. “Uhm, today, actually.” 

He looks a bit uncertain, as Louis nods. “Thought so. Not like, necessarily that you started today, but that you must be quite new.”

The boys’ eyes widen and Louis tries his hardest not to laugh, succeeding. “Why? Am I doing something wrong?” His swipes his hand over his mouth and then takes a quick glance at his hand, as if worried he had food hanging out or something. 

“No, no,” Louis takes pity on him and shakes his head. “Just, I haven’t seen you around before.” 

“Oh,” the boy nods and visibly relaxes, rubbing his nose. “Thank god. I was so worried I’d mess up on my first day, like my mum would’ve been so annoyed, me coming homE and…” He suddenly stops, realising he’s rambling. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about,” Louis gestures his hand. “We’ve all been there. First day nerves and all. It’ll pass.”

“As will pass your lunch break, lads, you’ve been there for bloody ages!” Hazel, the middle-aged café worker with a flaming red hair suddenly croaks hoarsely from the other side of the counter. 

The boy looks almost as red as Hazel’s hair and Louis smiles at her sweetly. “Sorry love. Just being helpful here, trying to get that employee of the month title again, you know how it is!” 

Hazel’s expression softens. “My bet is on you, Louis. Don’t mess it up. I need that bingo money.”

Louis winks. “Sure thing, love. Now,…” He turns to look at the boy, questioningly. 

“Oh, Harry.” The boy pipes up after a few seconds. 

“So, Ohharry, what are you having for your first lunch at Pleasure Beach?”

The boy, Harry, looks at the blackboards by the ceiling, contemplating. “What would you recommend?” 

“Ham and cheese toastie, and a Ribena,” Hazel nods. “He’s been having those every day for the past two summers, so my wild guess is he likes them.” 

Louis tuts. “Excuse me, Hazel love, I’m a changed man now. This summer is going to be different.” 

Hazel crosses her arms. “Since when? You had them all week last week.” 

“Since now,” Louis sticks his tongue out and reaches for a raspberry Tropicana. “And can I get a, eh, a BLT baguette?” 

“And uhm, I’ll have that ham and cheese toastie, please,” Harry finally says and takes a Ribena. Hazel rolls her eyes and laughs, starting the sandwich grill. “As, you know, maybe they’ve stocked up relying on you always having this, and I don’t want there to be a huge loss or any issues now that you suddenly changed your mind,” Harry explains and smiles brightly. 

Hazel takes a long look at Harry, crossing her arms and nodding approvingly. “Bugger off, Louis, I have replaced my bet. You,” she points her index finger at Harry, “are my new favourite. I’ll bring your orders to the table.” 

Louis and Harry take their drinks, Louis heading towards his usual small table by the window, glancing at Harry hovering behind him, looking unsure. “Well come on, Ohharry. You can sit with me. Just know that if I stop getting special treatment from Hazel, it’ll be on you.”

“Alright,” Harry chuckles as they take a seat. “Fully deserved, I know.” 

Louis looks at Harry unwrapping his straw, piercing the little foil of the Ribena juice and leaning in to take a sip, only to have the straw pre-leak down his jaw. Louis can’t help but laugh.

“Bloody hell,” Harry mumbles under his breath as he wipes his jaw with the back of his hand. “I swear I’m not usually….” He seems to reconsider and then sighs. “No, actually, that’s a lie. I am always this big of a mess.”

Louis waves his hand. “No worries, mate. It’s very handy.” 

“Handy how?” 

“I feel very well put-together right now, for starters.” 

“Piss off,” Harry laughs and then looks shocked. “Sorry, shit, I didn’t mean to.”

Louis sights exaggeratedly. “I take you to my table, I offer you advice, teach you the ropes, and you tell me to piss off…” He looks at Harry. “I think we’ll get along just fine, Ohharry.” 

Harry nods. “Sweet.” 

“Sweet.” 

Hazel comes over with their orders, and Louis stares at his baguette. 

“Something wrong?” 

“Yeah, no, well, it’s just that…” Louis starts picking at the baguette. “It has tomatoes in it.” 

Harry furrows his brows. “And?” 

“I don’t like tomatoes. Might even say I hate them. I feel scammed.”

Harry looks uncertain. “But… You ordered a BLT. It’s literally bacon, lettuce and tomato. I’d say the tomato wasn’t that big of a scam, really.” 

Louis had the baguette opened on his plate, offensively well-tomato’d. He can feel his stomach turning. 

“Fine,” Harry then sighs and opens his toastie. “I’ll save you from the tomatoes. Give them here.” 

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. I actually like tomatoes.” 

“Like tomatoes? What even are you?” Louis’ voice is a mix of infatuation, horror and gratitude. 

“Your new best friend, I guess,” Harry says as he organises the tomatoes Louis put on his plate in between his toastie slices. 

“You might be right, Ohharry,” Louis nods and digs into his now improved baguette. 

After lunch, he takes pity on Harry. 

“Has, um, has anyone said anything about your shoes?” Louis wipes his mouth with a napkin and tries to sound light. 

Harry looks down at his shoes so quickly it looks painful on his neck. “No, why? They’re really sick, aren’t they? Like, not too out there but still really sort of, I don’t know, quirky?” 

“They are light blue.” 

“Yeah. Just bought them,” Harry looks happy. 

Louis feels like he’s about to kick a puppy. “It’s just, they’re not black.”

“No, they’re not black.” 

“They kinda should be.” 

Harry looks like he might throw up. “What.” 

“You mean ‘sorry’,” Louis says automatically, repeating his mother’s favourite lesson in life. “We are all required to have black shoes. Just black shoes at work.” 

“I… didn’t know that.” Harry looks like he might sob, again staring at his very-much-not-black shoes. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck,” he starts muttering under his breath, only stopped when Louis puts his hand on his forearm. 

“Stop. I’m going to save your arse.”

Harry looks Louis in the eye. “You are?” 

“I am,” Louis nods. “Shoes for tomatoes and we’ll call it even. Come on, we still have a few minutes left.” He stands up and pulls Harry up as well. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Getting my spare pair for you.” 

“You have a spare pair of shoes?” 

Louis huffs, showing his magnetic key on the pad on the staff only -door. “I work in an amusement park. Which has rides. Which kids go to. Kids who get sick. Often. _Of course_ I have a spare pair of shoes.” 

In the locker room, Harry absentmindedly tells Louis he feels like Cinderella and then blushes again, and Louis thinks this summer truly might be a little bit different. 

\---

And it is. A bit different, and a whole lot more amazing than any other summer Louis has had at the Pleasure Beach amusement park. Or maybe a better summer than he has ever had. His summer is made of so much laughter, dips into the sea at nights after work, dips that after a while first turn into skinny dips and then cautious make-out sessions; his summer is made of listening to Arctic Monkeys on repeat and never not laughing at the one point where Harry turns the lyrics ‘good 1984’ in _I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor_ to ‘good 1994’; their summer is made of sticky hands from dripping, melted ice cream and kisses that taste like strawberries and chocolate. Their summer sounds like seagulls screaming on the beach and smells like sun-kissed skin.

He learns that Harry’s shoes are the coolest thing about him, that otherwise he dresses like a preppy rich boy. Harry claims it’s in an ironic way, but Louis isn’t convinced. One day they decide to switch up clothes, and Hazel looks annoyingly knowing when they walk into work one morning with Louis feeling all too posh in Harry’s smart clothes and a little bit flustered with how incredibly sexy Harry looks in his black t-shirt and black skinny jeans. 

Harry is really scared of heights, Louis learns one day when he convinces Harry to ride The Big One – _‘It’s like the highest and fastest rollercoaster in the world, Haz, you have to try it!’_ – and Harry almost bruises his hand with holding on so tight; but they survive the ride, despite Harry’s knees almost giving in as they get off the carrier. 

Louis’ summer is made of being so very careful with Harry one night; a whispered _I love you_ and a wistful feeling of maybe having lost a piece of his soul and heart forever to this ridiculous kid. 

Louis learns Harry is a bit of a crier as they say goodbye one early morning in late August and promise to stay in touch. 

**Act II. York, 2014-15.**

Louis is definitely confident enough to admit he fucking loves Wetherspoons, completely unironically. It serves edible food made out of grease and melted cheese, drinks are affordable enough to get a student nice and drunk, and this specific pub at Micklegate has a nice enough inner courtyard to paint the perfect scene to a rowdy lads night out. 

He and his mates have thus far toasted to themselves as a group for surviving yet another year of uni, toasted to each five of them individually and bursted into various renditions of _School’s out._

“Oi, Tommo!” Niall downs his pint as Louis stands up, with the rest of their friends paying attention to an arm-wrestling match on a table next to them. 

“I really need to wee, Nialler.” 

Niall makes a grand hand gesture. “And you very well may.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Geez, thanks.” 

“But after, can you get me another snakebite and black?” Louis stares at Niall, who hisses to him funnily, waggling his tongue like a snake. 

“Sure, mate,” he manages between his drunken giggling. Niall is the best, really.

Louis looks at himself in the mirror at the gents after relieving himself. It feels like one of those moments when you’re having a brilliant night, feel quite drunk but have a moment of sober self-reflection when alone in the loos. Louis splashes cold water on his face and lifts his t-shirt up to dry himself. He can hear the door opening and someone walk in. He lifts his head and sees a vaguely preppy looking boy, in a smart shirt with sleeves rolled up, going into one of the cubicles. 

Feeling unexplainedly strange, he makes his way to the bar and orders a snakebite and black for Niall. Getting the drink, he sniffs it and shivers – he’s fine with a bit of regular snakebites, mixing beer and cider, but it’s the smell of blackcurrant that still triggers a weird sensation in him. He likes it well enough, or at least did – after his summers at Pleasure Beach and the overdose of Ribenas, he hasn’t had an ounce of blackcurrant since then. He’s not sure if it’s physical boredom or emotional upset. From the side of his eye, he can see the bloke from the loos come to the bar. He has curly hair down to just below his ears and Louis feels a bit off-balance. It’s not Harry, probably, maybe. Their eyes meet and Louis’ smile is met with a wink from the guy. Louis decides to order a snakebite and black after all. 

“Thought I saw Harry,” Louis whispers conspirationally to Niall as he makes his way back to their table. 

Niall takes a big gulp from his drink and burbs. “Your pleasure Harry?” 

“Pleasure Beach, yeah.” Louis takes a cautious sip out of his pint and closes his eyes. It’s both awful and amazing at the same time. Kind of like Niall knowing who he means with ‘Harry’ even after what, four years? 

“Think he’s here?” Niall looks around. “Why would he be here?” 

Yeah. There is no reason for Harry to be in a cheap bar in York. Louis sighs, defeated. “Nah, you’re right. He wouldn’t be.”

Niall gives him a look, rather poignant for someone that tipsy. “You know this isn’t the first time you think you’ve seen him?” 

“Yeah. Point being?” 

Niall takes another long drink. “Just, maybe, d’you reckon it might be, I dunno, time to let go?”

Louis feels annoyed. “I’m not, like there’s nothing to let go, mate. It’s been years. Just thought I saw him, that’s all.”

“I know, I know, chill,” Niall lifts his hands up. “Just, you get so… Shaken when this happens. Maybe you should just, get in touch with him or something?” 

It’s Louis turn to take a long drink. “I don’t have any contact details for him. You know that.” 

“Have you checked Facebook lately? Like when was the last time you checked?” 

Louis shrugs and digs out his phone, tapping on the Facebook app and searching for ‘Harry Styles’. Nothing comes up. He shows the screen to Niall, who looks apologetic and slaps Louis’ back. 

“Tough, man.” 

“It’s…” Louis pockets his phone and then rubs his eyes. “It’s so fucking dumb, I know. It’s been years, it was what it was.” 

“Was your first love, though. That always sticks.” 

“I guess.” They drink in silence for a bit. 

“Fuck it, we’re getting shots.“

\---

The club is too noisy to think straight, which is probably lucky, it being a gay club and all. All Louis can see is a head full of dark brown curls, his vision too blurry to make out facial features. The guy is dancing on the floor with two girls, and his moves are lame and ridiculous enough to make Louis feel certain it’s Harry. It must be. 

Turns out it isn’t Harry. 

“Are you sure your name isn’t Harry?” Louis tries to yell over the music to the guy. 

“No, it’s Manuel!” The bloke is saying, with quite a strong accent. 

“Have you always been Manuel?” Louis isn’t giving up. 

The guy looks perplexed and Louis presses on. “You weren’t like, I dunno, adopted a few years ago? You aren’t actually British and called Harry?” 

The guy starts laughing. “No, you stupid. At least you’re very sexy.” 

He doesn’t kiss like Harry, at all, his lips aren’t as soft. Louis takes him home anyway.

He wakes up alone, thank fuck. His head is pounding and pounding is his door as well, when Niall walks in with a cuppa and throws himself on Louis’ bed. 

“Good night?” 

“Feel bloody wrecked,” Louis croaks, sipping the tea Niall brought him. 

“Hey, good on the sex and all but I really don’t need details, mate.” 

“No, not like that. Just… Emotionally.” Louis closes his eyes. “I think I called him Harry all night.” 

“Well,” Niall contemplates, “that’s not great.” 

“Nope,” Louis pops the p. “It really isn’t. And it’s not like, it’s not an obsession or anything, just that… I thought it was him, at first, and then I realised it wasn’t, but I really wanted it to be, and I just…” 

They lay in silence for a bit. There’s paint chips on the roof. 

“This isn’t me, man.” Louis finally says. “I don’t treat people like this. Adam, or what was it, was nice. Shouldn’t be just, used for whatever the fuck I was using him for. This isn’t me. This has got to stop.” 

Niall agrees. He goes to the bathroom, gets a bottle of Lynx deodorant and they pretend Niall is a man in black and he waves the Lynx bottle in front of Louis, wiping away all memories and thoughts of Harry. 

Weirdest thing is that it works. Louis doesn’t see Harry anywhere anymore, and he stops searching for his name on Facebook. 

\---

**Act III. Edinburgh, 2021.**

“Sure, mate, you’re my best friend,” Louis is balancing his phone between his cheek and shoulder. “I’d be honoured to be your best man. Not sure how honourable your wedding will be, mind, but…” He can hear Niall cackling on the other end.

Louis is contemplating between chicken and beef pot noodle, saying bye to Niall, when suddenly a strange feeling overcomes him, out of the blue. It’s almost like a light breeze had suddenly whiffed through him, making him feel a bit chilly. He looks around the little cornershop, no one in but him and old Pradeep behind the counter. He shrugs and reaches for the chicken pot noodle, picking up a packet of blueberries and Greek yoghurt. The bell on the door rings, marking someone entering the cornershop. Louis can see Pradeep nodding to the customer, and finishes paying. He’s almost out of the shop when he sees the other customer briefly, holding a frozen pizza and multipack of Ribena. Louis chuckles to himself, heading home, unable to shake off the weird, slightly eerie feeling. 

Louis lives just a few minutes’ walk away, in the beginning of the grove. It’s an old council estate area, still a little rugged on the outside, with some dodgy neighbours, but Louis loves the tightknit community feeling. He’s lived here for a good few years now, after wanting to start over somewhere completely new after Sheffield, deciding fresh Scottish air would be just what he needed. He enjoys his work as a youth social worker; it makes him feel like he’s making a real difference in their lives. His flat, quite spacious and done up nicely, feels like a home. He lives alone, having deemed himself too wary of commitment to even get a pet, but he doesn’t feel lonely. He’s got great social circles here and elsewhere too, friends with families – the last time he counted, he had six godchildren and a seventh one on the way. 

He hasn’t let himself properly thought about his first love in almost six years. Louis is fine.

**Act IV. Edinburgh, 2021.**

One lesson Louis never seems to learn in this life is how to stock up properly with smokes when drinking. He’d had a great video call with the rest of the lads, planning Niall’s stag do. He had to fight hard to suggest they’d go anywhere else but Blackpool, which seemed to be a favourite, but in the end, he managed to convince them all that Newcastle was the place to be. It had almost been like being in the pub, all of them together again, having drinks and talking shit and trying to pretend the background noise of kids messing about and partner’s cooking and yelling restrictions for the stag do didn’t exist. It’s still early, only around 8PM, and Louis is fine with drinks but on his last smoke now. He’s planning to hit the bars of Old Town with a few mates, but that’s not until a few hours. Plenty of time for some quality pregame time with his great self. 

The cornershop is empty, as usual – Louis reckons he is probably 80% responsible of the shop even being business anymore. He picks a packet of salt and vinegar crisps to go, feeling the munchies, when the bell on the door clinks again. He’s counting his coins to pay Pradeep, when the other customer speaks up from his side. 

“Excuse me, do you have any Ribenas left?” It’s an English accent.

Pradeep shakes his head, smiling. “No, Bonnie bought all. It was her 8th birthday today.” 

Louis knows Bonnie; she’s got a pink scooter and a lot of freckles. She’s adorable. 

“Important age,” it sounds like the other customer is smiling. “Ok, thanks anyway.” 

His voice sounds incredibly deep and sort of like, well, sex. Louis can’t help but take a sneaky side look. The man is dressed in black skinny jeans, sinfully tight really, a pink silky shirt with sleeves rolled up and he is wearing boots with… Are those rainbow buckles? The guy has a man bun and very sharp, handsome features, even if Louis is only getting a side look. 

There’s something oddly familiar about him, that Louis can’t quite pinpoint. Instead, he turns his head to a stand of greeting cards, and remembers his aunt Muriel is turning 70 in a few days. He picks a card that looks boring and generic, perfect for Muriel then. 

“Seven pounds altogether, please Louis.” Pradeep says and bags the card together with the rest of Louis’ shopping. 

Louis hears something drop from behind him. “Ah, shit, sorry, I mean sorry for saying shit, again, I’ll pay this of course,” the other customer sounds flustered.

Pradeep sighs but remains polite. “Not to worry, young man. Just six eggs, isn’t it.” 

“Here, let me help you,” Louis bends down to pick the broken egg shells to the container. The man seems to pull a bit further from him, mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’. 

Now, Louis is feeling tipsy enough and the man is gorgeous and smells nice, and he seems kind enough to approach. Louis knows better than to make assumptions based on how people dress and he’s not one to pick guys up on a cornershop, not the ideal cruising place is it, but somehow he can’t stop himself. “I’m sorry, I just got to… You really remind me of someone. Have we met?” 

“I’m not local,” the guy says hoarsely. “Thanks for your help.” They stand up and the man gives the eggs to Pradeep. “I can clean that, if you have a cloth.” 

“No no,” Pradeep shakes his head. The man proceeds to pay and something about his body language has changed, he seems a bit fidgety. Louis guesses he’s just feeling embarrassed, and maybe his awkward question set the man off as well. Louis feels a bit shit and heads outside, lighting a cigarette when the man also comes out, carrying a blue bag with his shopping inside.

“Sorry about that,” the man gestures vaguely towards the shop. “I just… I hate when I mess up like that.” 

“No worries, mate. I don’t normally go around hitting on guys in cornershops, and my lines are usually a lot better, you just actually do remind me of someone.” 

The man is looking at him seriously, like he’s contemplating something. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, but it’s… It’s nothing. Past lives,” Louis smiles but knows the smile comes out forced. “You’re not from around here then?” 

“No, I’m, just visiting I guess.” 

“In _this_ area?” Louis chuckles. 

The man smiles a little and something inside Louis feels warm. “A bit of an Airbnb fumble, shall I say.” 

“Ah,” Louis understands. “Never trust anything on the internet.” 

The man chuckles and he seems to have a bit of a dimple going on his left cheek. “It’s just for a few more days, luckily, been here for about a week.” 

“Been to Edinburgh before?”

“Ages ago, for like a school trip.” 

“Has it been treating you well this time then?” 

“Yeah, it’s been… It’s a work trip, so I haven’t really gotten anything out of it, to be honest. Just been to this corner shop.” 

“Ha,” Louis chuckles, “well you’ve seen the best in Edinburgh in that area, at least! They do wicked rolls on Sundays. Bake them themselves.” 

The man’s eyes seem to sparkle up a bit. “Oh! I used to…” He stops himself mid-sentence. “Uhm, I love fresh rolls on a Sunday.” 

Louis approves. “Well, sorry I can’t be a proper local, not from here either.”

The man nods, looks at Louis again in this weirdly intense way and then looks down to his blue bag, like his courage might be stocked there. He pulls out a can of JD and coke. “I, uhm… I don’t usually do this either, but, uhm, the place I’m staying is pretty rank, it smells and I’m pretty sure I can feel my lungs cover up in mold, and there’s no telly or wifi, so… I mean, gosh this is so dumb, are you… What are your plans for the evening?” The man is blushing and mumbling over his words. 

Louis is smitten. “Give me a sec.” He quickly texts his friends to cancel on his plans for the night and then pockets his phone, offering a bright smile to the man. “I guess I’ll try to give you a bit of a Scottish experience, if you’re game.” 

The man laughs and it sounds wonderful. It almost sounds like… No, Louis refuses to think about it. He’s here with a gorgeous man, who apparently wants to spend the evening with him for some unfathomable reason, and he refuses to botch this up with any thoughts of past ghosts. 

“Not haggis though,” the man lifts his finger. “I don’t eat meat.” 

“Not haggis then,” Louis puts a hand on his heart. “Uhm, I guess we’ll go to mine? I swear I’m not crazy. Or a criminal. I can show you my ID and you can take a pic and send to, I don’t know, you mum.” 

The man seems to startle for a second but quickly composes himself. “Oh, no, not necessary. I trust you. And I’m also neither.” 

“Excellent. I’m Louis,” Louis extends his hand. 

It seems the man has rarely seen hands, judging by long it takes for him to shake it. “Hey Louis. I’m Ed.” 

They start walking towards Louis’, Ed sipping his drink and Louis smoking away, offering a fag to Ed, who politely declines, saying he’s not drunk enough yet. 

“This is where my place is,” Ed points at a house two houses before Louis. 

Louis cringes. “Congrats. You managed to pick the worst one. There’s some dodgy stuff in that one.” 

“Stuff, yeah. And people.” They carry on walking in silence for a bit.

“So, what are you doing here then?” 

“I was working for the Edinburgh Festival, actually.” 

“Ah, that’s sick! Are you a performer? Oh, wait, let me guess,” Louis stops and Ed turns towards him. Louis squints his eyes as if surveying. “You’re not an actor, I don’t think. Do you… are you one of those musical poets? Or musical stand-up acts?” 

Ed laughs loudly. “Haha, I wish! No, I’m just a regular work mule setting up stages and fixing lights and that. Technical stuff. Have a bit of a stage fright so I’ll just stay behind it, or under it, or above it, anywhere but on it, really. But thanks, I guess.” 

“Fair enough. I couldn’t go on a stage myself, either.” They’ve arrived to Louis’ door. “This is me. No mold, no dodgy stuff or people.” 

“Sounds perfect,” the man nods.

His place could’ve been a little less messy, but it could be worse as well. Louis puts on his Arctic Monkeys playlist and brings drinks for himself and Ed, throwing a few big pillows on the floor in front of the sofa. He barely stops himself from lighting some tea lights, trying to keep this as un-creepy and casual mate thing. 

“Tennent’s?” Ed is eyeing the lager can, opening it. 

“True Scottish experience, I told you.” 

Ed takes a sip and sighs. “Thanks. This is brilliant.”

“Goes straight to your head, I swear. Deceiving.” 

Ed flinches at Louis words and shuffles around a little, looking around Louis’ living room. He doesn’t seem to realise he’s starting to hum along the song playing. “So, Louis, what do you do?” 

“I work as a youth worker. Deal with kids who have it rough, try to help them.” 

Ed looks at him, unreadable expression on his face. “But you’re…. I mean, that’s amazing. That’s so good of you.” 

“I guess. I think, growing up, it was a bit same for me so I just, try to help out and give out what I can. So they can make it as big in life as I have,” Louis laughs and it’s not bitter. 

“You seem very content and happy,” Ed smiles. “I’m glad.” 

Louis is a bit confused by his statement, but Ed does seem to be the sort of person who’s just happy for anyone who’s happy. Instead of overanalysing, he just offers his can to Ed so they can cheer. 

“And you? Are you content and happy?” 

Ed circles his finger on the top of the can for a bit. “I’ve been worse, I guess.” 

“That doesn’t sound… great.” 

“It’s… I think it’s getting better,” Ed smiles and it looks carefully genuine. “So. In the shop, you said I remind you of someone?” 

Louis cringes inside, but guesses he owes a bit of an explanation. Not the full story, god no, but something. “Yeah, it’s… Someone I knew years ago. When we were kids. You just… really are a lot like him, somehow. Except…” Louis pokes Ed’s cheek. “He had a little mole here. You don’t have it.”

Ed starts coughing. “Uhm, actually, I…”

He gets interrupted by the first sounds of _I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor_ filling the room, and he closes his eyes, leaning back against the sofa. “I love this song.”

“Me too,” Louis says quietly. The song is a bit like Ribena to him. Hard to consume after… Well, after Harry. 

He can hear Ed starting to hum next to him, and he joins him. They start singing along, quietly at first but then with increasing volume the longer the song bangs on. 

Louis can’t stop himself, it’s become a second nature, to sing the ‘good 1984’ as ‘good 1994’ ever since Harry had started doing it. He sings along with that, and it takes him a while to realise that Ed had sang the exact same lyrics. 

“What the fucking fuck?” He opens his eyes and stares at Ed, who… 

Well. Looks like Harry probably would after 10 years. 

“Harry?” His voice sounds like an angry shrill and the room seems to be spinning. “The fuck?” He pokes Harry’s, or Ed’s, upper arm. “What the hell happened to your mole?” Louis silently congratulates himself on focusing on the most important things, here. 

Harry bites his lips and it looks so fucking familiar Louis actually might start crying. “I had it removed a few years ago. It got a bit… worrysome.” 

“What?” Louis feels like he can’t understand English anymore. 

“They suspected it was a tumour. So I had it removed. It’s fine now,” Harry rushes to reassure. 

Louis can’t find himself to be able to do more than stare at Harry, hand still on Harry’s upper arm, pressing tight. “You fucking knew it was me.” 

“I did,” Harry nods and looks embarrassed. Quite fucking rightfully. “I’m sorry.” 

“How long were you… Were you not going to tell me it’s you at all?” 

“No, I was, as soon as we’d get here, I didn’t… I didn’t know how to.” 

Louis huffs and squeezes Harry’s arm again. “Oh, geez, I don’t know, maybe _Hi Louis yes it is me, the fucking person you thought I am_ , that might’ve been a good fucking start!”

Harry presses his hands to his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.” 

“So what, this a joke? You’re making some sort of sick fun of me?” 

“No! I don’t… No, Louis. Please don’t think that.” 

“The hell am I supposed to think, Haz?” Louis cringes at how easily the old nickname falls from his lips. “This is fucking sick. And not the good kind.” 

They sit quietly for a while and Louis, even after all these years, all these fucking years, knows Harry well enough still to know when he’s about to start sobbing and for fuck’s sake, his first instinct is still to make sure it doesn’t happen.

They sit silently for a while, until Louis clears his throat. “Why… When did you realise it was me?” 

Harry swallows audible. “The other day, in the shop.” 

Louis’ brain works for a while, and then a lightbulb appears. “You were buying Ribena.” 

“Yeah.” 

“And you saw me.” 

“Yeah.” 

“And you didn’t say anything.” 

“No, I… I wasn’t sure it was you, at first, and you were just leaving and I… Couldn’t imagine I’d see you in that place, here, it was so weird.”

Louis suddenly remembers the eerie feeling he’d felt in that moment. 

Harry carries on. “And then, I went back to the flat, and got pretty sure it was you, and then today, I saw you leaving your house and I… followed you.” He sounds mortifyingly embarrassed. 

“You followed me to the shop.” 

Harry nods. “And then the man called you Louis, and then I knew.” 

“You dropped the eggs.” 

Harry laughs dryly. “Can’t stop making great first impressions around you, can I?” 

“And I came to help you and you said nothing. I even fucking told you that you remind me of someone I know and you said nothing.”

Great, now Harry’s eyes are actually glistening. “I… panicked.” 

“You almost let me leave.” 

“But I didn’t!” It comes out as a loud sob. “I came after you. I wanted to come after you, and it was so scary, you have no idea Lou, but I… couldn’t not come after you.” 

“You should’ve said something right away.” 

Harry gives him an odd look. “You didn’t remember me.” 

“I said you looked familiar!”

Harry shakes his head slowly. “But… that’s not the same. Like, you told me I look like someone you used to know, I didn’t know if you even remember who that someone was, or if it was just like, a feeling. I didn’t want to, put my eggs in one basket…”

“Or any basket…”

Harry smiles despite himself and wipes his eyes. “I didn’t want to tell you who I am and have you not remember. It’s been ten years.”

“Of course I remember you.” 

“But I couldn’t have been sure. You didn’t say, and like, how did you not recognise me?” 

Louis vaguely gestures his hand up and down Harry. “Well, you’ve changed. Manned up. Quite amazingly,” he adds under his breath.

Harry turns his body towards Louis and hesitantly wraps his fingers around Louis’ wrist. “I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t mean to be, I don’t know, hurt you or offend you. I really didn’t.” 

For some reason, Louis believes him. “Ok,” he nods and then sighs deeply. “I guess whiskey is a natural next step, then.” He stands up and heads towards the wooden globe, hiding all his liqueur in the corner of the living room. “That’s, if you want to stay?” 

Harry beams. “I’d love to.” 

Louis pours them glasses of Laphroaig, and gestures with his head for Harry to get up, opening the door to the balcony. It’s quite dark by now, but the air is still gentle and warm. 

“Hey, Haz,” Louis offers the other glass. “How have you been?” 

Harry smiles and it’s bright. “Hey Lou.” He takes a sip and flinches a little, then turns to look around the scenery. The Edinburgh Castle looks gorgeous in the distance, all light up. “Can’t believe you live in Edinburgh.” 

“Me neither, sometimes,” Louis leans to the railing and lights a cigarette. He offers one to Harry, who takes it, and briefly touches Louis’ hand with his fingers when he lights it up. 

Harry takes a deep drag and exhales. “You seem… So content, here. You always said you wanted to adventure.” 

“You always said you wanted to just stay home. Be quaint.” Louis smiles. 

“I guess we’re good at corrupting each other long term, then,” Harry’s voice is amused. “And you work with kids.” 

“Uhm, well, someone I know used to say I have a lot of goodness to give and a helpful soul.” 

Harry laughs lowly. “What a smart someone.” 

“Right?” Louis hip bumps Harry, it comes naturally. “Thanks for that, you know. I never really… thought I could amount to much.” 

“Pfft,” Harry looks offended. “You amount to everything, Lou.” 

“And you? What’s the story of Haz from the last ten years?” 

Harry shrugs. “Quite the opposite, I guess. I’ve been adventuring for both of us.” 

“That’s very… Not what you ever said you’d like to do.” 

“Guess I had a someone too, telling how I could do anything I want. Should do anything I want. And I realised what I wanted to do, and it wasn’t what everyone kept telling me to want.” 

“And have you? Done what you wanted?” Louis feels a bit hesitant to hear the answer; he hopes Harry has been able to enjoy life to the fullest. 

Harry nods, contemplating. “I have. I mean… I’ve travelled the world, for years, and seen places and met people and I’ve got to do amazing things but…” He goes quiet. “I feel like it’s time to stop Peter Paning. Feels like I’ve done my adventures now, and it’s time for new things.” 

“What things?” 

“Things like… Warm rolls on Sunday mornings.” 

\---

They stay up until the early hours, drinking whiskey and telling about all the everythings and nothings that have happened during the last ten years. Louis finds out Harry has also occasionally been haunted by thinking he’s seen Louis somewhere, but their paths have truly never actually crossed up until now. 

“I, uhm, sorry if this is a bit, intrusive, I mean it’s not my business at all…” Harry starts awkwardly somewhere between having finished the pack of crisps and having ordered chips and cheese. 

“Out with it, come on.” 

“Are you… seeing anyone?” 

“I see you.” 

“Ha, ha.” Harry fake laughs. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I’m not… It hasn’t really been a thing, for me.” 

“What do you mean?” Harry looks confused. 

Louis shrugs. “I guess just that, a relationship hasn’t really felt like something I’d want, you know? I mean, I’ve had some, and they’ve been good, until they ended, but nothing really… Like, I’m not really bothered with having a relationship in my life, I feel really happy without one.” 

“Oh,” Harry says quietly. “I get that. Really well, actually. I haven’t really ever been in one place long enough to, you know, establish a thing.” 

“So a charmer in every harbour then?” 

Harry shakes his head and looks a little offended. “No, no, nothing like that. I just… Like, I never want to play people. I’m not one to love and leave them.” 

They both seem to realise at the same time what Harry had said, and the comfortable and warm atmosphere seems to drop to considerably chillier degrees. 

“Well.” Louis starts, unsure how to go on.

“It wasn’t… That’s not what happened to us.” 

And suddenly, as lovely and fun as the evening has been, it seems they have finally reached the one destination they’d been circling around, avoiding on purpose all night. 

“What happened to us then, Harry? You just disappeared. No explanations, nothing. And you haven’t reached out, not once, during the years.” 

Harry’s long fingers are making circling movements on his temples, his eyes shut tight, until he finally speaks up. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t, ready, I guess. Or wasn’t allowed to be.” 

Louis doesn’t understand. “I don’t understand.” 

“I…” Harry sighs and takes Louis’ hands to his. His skin is so soft and very warm. “I wasn’t out, when I was with you. Like, not to my family, or anyone back home. My… my family is really conservative.”

“You never really spoke about them.” 

“Yeah, I… Like, your family always sounded so supportive and proud, and mine just… wasn’t. Isn’t, I don’t know.” 

Louis forehead wrinkles. “Are you not out to them yet?” 

“No, no, I am, I just mean… We’re not in contact. Haven’t really been, since I came out.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t be, it’s… Not fine, but it is what it is. We didn’t have a huge fallout, or anything, it’s just… We all thought it’d be better if we’re not really in contact that much. Like, there’s nothing to say. I get Christmas cards and I send them, and vaguely know what’s happening, but that’s pretty much it.” 

“Is that why you travelled the world? To get away?” 

“Yeah,” Harry nods. “Always seeking freedom, I think.” His thumbs are rubbing the top of Louis’ palms. “So, I went home, and my mum thought I’d changed somehow. Which, I mean, I had. And then, somehow, she figured out it was about a boy, and she refused to let me come back the next summer.”

“You never picked up calls.” 

“She changed my number, took the old SIM so I didn’t have your phone number anymore either, and it was… You have no idea what it was like, knowing you’d be wondering and having no way to get in touch, to tell you, to reassure you that I… How much I loved you.” 

Louis pulls Harry to an embrace, squeezing his manbun. “You didn’t get in touch on Facebook.”

Harry sniffs. “I don’t have one, well, I do, but it’s like an alias for just professional stuff. I did look you up once.” 

Louis pulls away slightly to be able to look at Harry’s face. “I never got anything.” 

“That’s because, I didn’t send you anything. You had a picture of like, you and I guess a boyfriend, and you looked happy, so I thought… You looked happy.” 

“Still would’ve wanted to hear from you, you twat,” Louis huffs gently.

“You’re hearing from me now. We can like, never not hear from each other again.” Harry looks at Louis, and he looks so open, and hopeful, and vulnerable, that Louis has no choice but to kiss him very softly. 

It feels different, more practised, Harry’s face less soft than when he still had a round babyface, but he still tastes the same. His lips are still full, his eyes made of green so intense it pierces Louis’ soul, and his dimples so deep they can fit in half of Louis’ finger when he pokes them.

Harry’s body has changed; he’s all tight muscles and long, lean lines now, but he still has the ridiculous four nipples. He gets goosebumps from kisses on his neck and collarbones, just like before; he’s still ticklish on the back of his thighs, and gasps like before when Louis rubs his lower stomach. He has improved incredibly with his sucking skills; now it’s all controlled almost until the end, instead of sloppy eagerness, but he still looks at Louis from under his eyelids like there’s nothing in this world he’d want to do more. Putting on a condom is a lot easier and more efficient than before; Harry doesn’t get as tense with fingering anymore, but they both still come almost as quickly as they did on their first time.

Louis feels quite a bit the same as he did on their first night, when they fall asleep wrapped in each other and Harry still seems to snore. 

\---

In the morning, Louis wakes up alone in an empty bed. But it’s ok, because there’s a note on the fridge door, put up with one of his boob magnets (Niall is an awfully excellent souvenier buyer), and soon enough, there’s a knock on the door. 

**Act V. Edinburgh, 2027.**

Inverleith Park is looking lovely as ever, basking in the early Sunday morning sun, with rays of sun reflecting light from the water in the pond. Harry squints his eyes and rummages through his bag, looking for his sunglasses. Suddenly he can feel something pulling on his sleeve. 

“Daddy, daddy look!” 

“What is it, Ellakins?” 

“The swans! They’ve had swan babies!” 

Harry looks at the direction his daughter is excitedly pointing at and, indeed, there are two big swans swimming in the pond followed by a line of four little grey fluff balls. Harry wraps his arms around his daughter and kisses the top of her head. They sit in silence, looking at the swans for a bit. 

“Come on, then,” Harry finally pats Ella’s back. “Remember we’re on a mission.” 

Ella nods, knowing very well how important this mission is, waving her little hand as a bye to the swan family. 

They walk ahead for a bit, until Ella starts complaining she’s tired, and Harry piggybacks her. They make a quick stop to admire the police horses outside the police station, and then carry on their way. It’s strange, being back in the familiar area and feeling like coming home, even though they haven’t lived here for a while. Harry loves the home they have now; it feels like it’s truly theirs, made together. 

When they make it to their old road, Harry can’t help but look at the balcony that used to be theirs. It’s now stocked up with random stuff, a bike and a folded clothes rack, and it makes Harry feel bittersweet – he always thinks about the first night they had in that balcony, when he was looking at Edinburgh in the dark, smelling the summer air and feeling like this might be a very good thing. His phone beeps; it’s a message from Lou, saying emergency at the MacScott’s household has been evaded and he’s leaving now.

When they step into the cornerstore, old Pradeep – who somehow doesn’t seem to ever age, though – opens his arms wide. 

“Little Miss Ella!” He smiles as Ella runs to embrace him. 

Harry smiles, watching Ella starting to speak a mile a minute and Pradeep listening to her fondly, comically widening his eyes and belly laughing at suitable times. Harry heads over to the drinks section, picking up a multipack of Ribena as if it were muscle memory. Maybe it is, by now. 

Harry’s inhaling the heavenly smell of freshly-baked rolls as he’s bagging them and putting into the basket, when he hears the doorbell chime and, naturally, soon feels someone pinch his bum. 

“You’ve got to stop hitting on people in cornershops, Lou.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments taste even better than fresh rolls on a Sunday x


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